She remained silent, but her top teeth scraped her bottom lip. For a change, she didn’t have a salty quip or sharp-tongued argument.
“Like I know your hair feels like silk, and every time you pull your fingers through the strands I remember what it felt like brushing against my thighs?”
Her fingers tightened around her mug and those big brown eyes kept on staring.
“Like I know flecks of green hide in your dark irises like bursts of light?” He set his mug on the coffee table and took hers from her now trembling hands. “I know that because I remember exactly what it was like to be nose to nose with you, Mimi. I remember what it felt like with your breath coasting over my lips, your eyes open and drilling into mine while I sank deep inside you.”
He scooted closer, hearing her hectic intake of breath and practically feeling the pulse jumping at the side of her neck.
“Don’t get me started on your mouth.” His voice was a lust-soaked rasp. “Your lips were made for kissing.”
Before he could say more, those kissable lips crashed into his.
He caught the back of her head with one hand, bracing himself with the other to keep them from toppling over. An instinct. If he’d had one millisecond to reason, he’d have laid on his back and pulled her on top of him.
Her lips slid over his, the tentative push of her tongue testing his willingness to open his mouth to hers.
Willing and able, sweetheart.